


Perfect.

by starboystan



Category: IT - Stephen King
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, M/M, Making Out, Mutual Pining, NOT that angsty tbh!! i went v v soft on the angst sorry!, Prompt: Angst with a happy ending, Prompt: meeting in conflict and then oop feelings, richie lives in the apartment above stan, stan has an ALMOST perfect apartment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-25
Updated: 2019-12-25
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:08:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21945592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starboystan/pseuds/starboystan
Summary: Stan has always wanted the perfect apartment. Beautiful, plant-trimmed walls and matching coffee tables and dinnerware. In college, he finally gets the chance to design his own, and it is, by all means, perfect... except for one teeny-tiny head-poundingly terrible detail that ruined Stan’s illusion of the perfect apartment.The asshole who lived upstairs.
Relationships: Ben Hanscom/Beverly Marsh, Mike Hanlon/Eddie Kaspbrak, Richie Tozier/Stanley Uris, Stozier - Relationship
Comments: 8
Kudos: 74





	Perfect.

Stan had always wanted the perfect apartment. Ever since he was a kid he’d find himself downloading all sorts of games onto his computer where he could design houses and rooms. He loved the way that certain items of furniture could bring an entire room together, that was something his mother had brought him up with. Spending time reading piles of home design magazines and hours of watching interior television programmes with his mom, mostly just to have something other than schoolwork to talk with her about. It was no surprise to anyone who knew Stan that his apartment was as close to perfect as possible. Every plant pot and cushion mapped out perfectly - quite possibly one of the most aesthetically pleasing college apartments ever. His roommates helped him with the small things, but when it came to designing, Stan insisted that he was in charge. Eddie and Ben hadn’t minded, they knew well enough that Stan would come up with something great for their living space. It was clean, crisp white with small hints of stone grey dotted around - grey dishcloths and chairs, placemats and a small couch. He went for a mostly rustic vibe, a lot of wooden utensils and copper-wired table frames. Perhaps his favourite part of his apartment was the plants. The assortment of greenery filled the apartment and made just about anyone want to move in - they were beautiful. The soft touches of green smattered around the main living area really brought it all together - clearly, he learnt well from his mom. Safe to say that Stan, Ben and Eddie’s apartment was ideal, it looked like it had been taken straight out of a catalogue. Almost. There was one teeny-tiny head-poundingly terrible detail that ruined Stan’s illusion of the perfect apartment. 

The asshole who lived upstairs.

Well, technically only an asshole once a week. From Sunday until Saturday afternoon, the sweet peace of Stan’s little dream house runs smoothly, but as 6 o’clock comes around every Saturday, it begins… It being the infuriatingly loud party parties that never seem to stop. And to make things worse, Stan was the only one who seemed to get worked up about it. Eddie spent his Saturdays either at parties himself or staying over at his boyfriend Mike’s house, and Ben had these god-sent noise-cancelling headphones that turned the banging music and shouting from above into some sort of soothing white noise. Stan had tried to sleep with them on once but hated the way they pressed his ears to his head uncomfortably, so they weren’t gonna work for him. He just had to deal with it. Once the party flyer came under their door every Saturday lunchtime, Stan would do everything he could to try to make himself busy - finding random book clubs or study halls that he could stay in to avoid the deafening and constant booming that came from whoever it was who lived upstairs. There wasn’t a chance in hell that Stan would actually attend any of these parties, and saw the flyers as nothing more than a formality - Ben thought it was sweet that they were always invited, and had even been in attendance a couple of times (obviously he’d ask Stan to join him but the answer was always no). He’d always come home talking about the girl who lived there but Stan rarely wanted to talk about anything associated. Calling the cops wasn’t an option. There was no way he was gonna be known as a rat all over campus - he hadn’t been called names like that since he was thirteen or so. 

So Stanley Uris did what he did best: grinned and beared it. 

These issues continued through the semester, Stan repeating to dread Saturday night each week as it came around. He tried to make up for the lost sleep on Sundays, resting well before probably his hardest class of all - Advanced Algebra. It was one of the required classes for his Accounting and Business major but was mixed in with some of the students studying a bunch of other majors. Stan struggled to say the least, but his struggle only served to make him more determined to do well. He attended every lecture, every seminar, every study group just to try to get as much as he could to pass. And his notes were  _ sacred  _ to him - seldom offering to share them with anyone, despite the selfish claims made by Eddie every time a message from the class group chat would ping up on Stan’s phone.

Algebra just so happened to be the favourite subject of one Richard Tozier - he was smart without even trying to be and managed to understand even the hardest of concepts. Lanky, mouthy and, most of the time, unorganised. That’s why it was no surprise to either of his roommates that he woke up at 11 a.m. on the Monday of the apparent ‘most important class of the semester’ as his teacher had said. The only issue with him waking up an hour before midday was the fact that this ‘vital’ class started at 9. Beverly had given him the look that his mother would give him if she caught him smoking in his bedroom, head tipped to the side and eyebrows slightly raised, as he walked into the kitchen three minutes after waking up.

“I thought this was supposed to be the important one, Rich?” Bev inquired, looking up from her essay.

Rich grumbled, rubbing his eyes under his glasses harshly. “It was indeed, Red. I, however, found that my beauty sleep was far importanter.” He made a face and poked out his tongue. Bev launched a pillow over the back of the couch and snorted as it hit the half-naked boy standing in their kitchen. “Hey!”

“Should’ve gone to your class, idiot.”

Rich shakes his head and returns the pillow to her, messing up her short hair in the process of doing so. She smacks his hand away as he does. 

“You better be asking your class for notes, Rich, maybe that sexy curly-haired kid will share his notes with you?” Bev mocked a kissing face as she saw Richie nod and pull out his phone, typing out a quick message and pressing send. 

When Stan’s phone buzzed for the 6th time he’d had enough. He finally checked the messages there to see six consecutive messages from this ‘Trashmouth’ guy, he had a picture of Shaggy from Scooby-Doo as his profile photo so Stan had no way of connecting him to the guy he secretly stared at whenever he was looking away. After reading the messages and receiving an almost knowing look from Eddie - how the fuck did that little douchebag  _ always _ know what Stan was thinking, sometimes before he knows himself - Stan decided to send this poor guy a message, privately of course. He did seem really desperate, and Stan knew he couldn’t keep his notes for just himself forever. He writes out the message and attaches the link, giving the Trashmouth access to his Google Doc - making sure to not give him permissions to edit the work, but obviously could leave comments if he had questions.

**> Hey, my notes are compiled from the whole semester - notes from today included. In future, you should probably attend the classes deemed as important.**

He couldn’t help his formality, always wanting to come across as intelligent and dignified, especially with strangers. Richie had replied with a lot of thank you messages, talking about how he was going to find a way to thank Stan for all of his help. Stan had never shared his notes before, even keeping to himself in study groups. He saw it as some kind of advantage, and although it was selfish, Stan used his knowledge as a crutch for him to fall back on whenever he felt insecure about his work. This was big for him, sharing with strangers was something a Stanley Uris wouldn’t even consider back at the start of college. But it seemed that this stranger was a lot closer to home than he thought. 

Saturday rolled around and Stan was once again kept up into the early hours of the next morning, and once again frustrated as he lay restlessly in bed. Since sending his notes to that guy he’d stayed in loose contact with him, receiving texts now and again about how detailed Stan’s notes were, but the conversations diverted away from class and into their casual lives - keeping at a surface level usually. 

This was the perfect time to text him, he always left cryptic comments on Stan’s notes at 2 or 3 a.m.

**> Hi, are you up?**

He doesn’t get a reply for about 10 minutes until his screen lights up with a new message.

**> yo! busdy! im woke, whsts up!!?**

**> Not a lot, can’t sleep. Big party above me :/**

**> no wayyy! go joim them partyu time! im at a party od my own**

That was when it occurred to Stan that the person he was talking to was likely drunk, which wasn’t a problem by any means. But Stan decided that maybe it wasn't the best to talk to someone he hardly knew if they were drunk. So he put his phone away and watched a nature documentary until he heard the noise from upstairs slowly die down until he could finally get to sleep. 

Sunday passed in its usual hazy blur, Stan saved the majority of his work to complete before the new week started - easily getting through the work he’d left. Before he knew it, Monday had shown up and he was back in his usual seat in the lecture hall - it was more empty than usual today, the previous week had probably been too much for a lot of students, but not Stan. He was early, as always, and when he was placing his notebook out on the desk he felt someone approaching and sitting annoyingly close. Not wanting to obviously stare, Stan peeked out of the corner of his eye to see a thick pair of glasses looking right at him. He noticed the smell of this guy first - he smelled of some kind of light aftershave, but it was hiding the smell of smoke and another smell under that… something more natural, like his own scent. 

After debating it in his head, Stan turned to face this guy, and his eyes met with the guy he’d been secretly admiring since the start of the semester. He opened his mouth to say something but was cut off before he could even say ‘hi’.

“You’re Stan, right? I’m Richie.” The guy says with a smile, eliciting a nod from Stan, putting his hand out and shaking Stan’s hand as soon as it's in his. “You sent me the notes, I just wanted to say that you practically saved my life so technically I owe you one!” Richie didn’t let go of Stan’s hand the whole time he spoke, still shaking as Stan started to answer.

“Oh, yeah. So your real name isn’t Trashmouth then? Surprising, I kinda had my hopes up.” Stan had quickly gotten over Richie’s initial allure and was now focused on whatever it was he was about to learn. The way in which he spoke made him seem bored of Richie, but the truth contradicted this greatly. He was more than interested, curious even, of the guy he’d been texting for the past week. Why was he just now learning his name? How did he not know that he was the guy he’d been almost obsessed with? All he knew was that he had to thank Eddie for giving him that stupid look that he made him answer Richie’s message. 

“Sorry to be the bearer of bad news. So, am I going to get to witness the holy grail of notes being taken today, or what?” Richie hadn’t expected the response from Stan, but he loved a challenge more than anything. There was no way he was going to let Stan get away from him so easy after being a little addicted to him for the last few days. 

“If you promise to pay attention and don’t speak then maybe I’ll consider letting you stay there.” 

“As long as I can walk you home after?” There was a slight glint in Richie’s eyes, something about the way he spoke that threw Stan off a little and made his response a little too late for him to still seem too cool. 

“Okay, we have a deal.” Stan finally replied, turning back to face the front as the professor made his entrance and started to talk. 

Richie sat perhaps a little to close through the duration of the class, his thigh brushed against Stan’s at least six different times - Stan counted. Rich managed to only whisper something dumb to Stan four times - each time making Stan badly hide his blush and shove Richie’s leg away from him to where it was before. It was cute, this guy clearly didn’t want to like Richie, but he couldn’t help peeking at him whenever he flipped his notebook to continue his notes. 

Class went as usual, the professor piled on the information and Stan did his best to keep up, noticing how Richie hardly made any notes but answered almost every question he was asked. The class ended and Stan gathered his things, packing it all into his satchel and stood up, looking at Richie expectantly. He didn’t have a notebook or any pens, just stuffed his hands into his pockets and matched Stan in standing up. Stan wasn’t much smaller than him, his green eyes being at about Richie’s nose. The dusty blonde curls atop his head probably made him seem taller too, Richie imagined if he squished it down he’d be at least four inches shorter than himself, probably more.

“After you, kiddo.” Rich cooed. 

“We’re the same age, dummy.”

Conversation came easy enough as they walked in the direction of Stan’s apartment, talking about how they grew up and why they came to college in the first place. Turns out Richie was a lot smarter than he let on, but Stan had to listen closely to be able to tell. Soon enough relationships were brought up (by Richie of course). 

“So, Stan the Man, have you got a girlfriend?” Richie quested, glancing at Stan with a tiny bit of hope in his eyes. 

“Girlfriend?” Stan scoffed a little, everyone who knew him knew that he was gay, so this wasn’t a question he got a lot. “No, I don’t have a girlfriend, I used to have a boyfriend though, a couple of years ago.” 

“Boyfriend, huh? What was he like?” 

“Nice enough I guess, he was always sweet, we kinda just grew apart - different interests I guess.” Stan shrugged, turning down another street as they got closer. 

“Yeah, I get that. People change, y’know?” Rich cocked his head as Stan took the corner. Stan noticed his expression and gives him a questioning look. “Nothing, we just live close to each other apparently.”

“Really? Guess I don’t exactly know many people around here. I don’t think I actually know anyone from my building except my roommates.” 

“Yeah? What are they like?”

“They’re great. Ben is probably the nicest guy in the world and Eddie knows me better than probably anyone. I mean seriously, he can tell from the look on my face exactly what I’m thinking. He has a boyfriend - Mike - he’s a good guy too. Have you got roommates?”

“Yeah, two, just like you. There’s Beverly, best woman to ever exist. She’s like your mom and your best friend wrapped up into one, like your buddy Eddie it seems. And then there’s Big Bill…” he makes some kind of obscene hand gesture that makes Stan laugh a little. “He’s great fun, always invites people over to have these parties every week, it gets kinda crazy, I don’t know how he meets so many people.” 

They come to a stop outside Stan’s building. Richie had been so carried away by their talking that he’d hardly noticed them approach the apartment building. 

“Hey.. how’d you know where I live?” He asked, raising an eyebrow at Stan. “I mean, I know I’m attractive and all but I never pegged you as the stalker type. Hah. Pegged you-” Stan cut him off. 

“Funny joke, this is my building. I’ll see you later.” Stan reaches for his keys but Richie beats him to it, opening the door to the block. Stan looked beyond confused. 

“Looks like we both live here, neighbour. What floor are… what’s that look for?” Stan’s face had gone stern suddenly, his eyes narrowing as Richie spoke. 

“You’re on the 4th floor, aren’t you? You’re the asshole who keeps me up every Saturday because of your dumb parties, right?” Stan wasn’t yelling, but his tone was rather pointed and he looked like someone had just stolen his wallet.

“Woah woah woah, the last person that accused me of that wasn’t complaining - ow!” He yelped at Stan launched a pen at him. “What? I invite you every week. The whole point of the parties is to get to know the people we live around - you could say I throw them for you exclusively.”

“Who are you, Gatsby? Just - ahh! Just leave me alone.” Stan huffed, storming off towards the staircase before Richie could get another word in. 

Rich stood there a little surprised, but his shocked expression quickly turned into a smile as he realised how close he lived to ‘Hot-Stuff Stanley’ as Bev had once called him. He couldn’t wait to tell her. But before telling her he made sure to send Stan a text to apologise. It went a little something like… 

**> hey, listen, man, im sorry about the whole party thing. i wanna make it up to you FOR REAL this time. will you please come to one of them?**

He waited until the little ‘Delivered’ sign appeared under the message and stuffed his phone back into his pocket, racing upstairs to tell Bev all about Sexy Stan and his plan to win him over - Bev thought the plan was dumb and it 100% would not work, even if Richie took his glasses off and used his sexy voice. 

By Thursday the message was still marked as ‘Read’... a whole three days without an answer to the message? Wow, this guy was playing hard to get. Richie didn’t see it as a problem. There were more ways to get someone’s attention than simply texting. He started to walk around his kitchen with very heavy steps, hoping that it would annoy Stan enough to make him storm upstairs with a cute little angry face and tell him off for being annoying and loud. Richie was the best at annoying and loud. 

As Friday came along - and there was still no contact from Stan - Richie was getting restless, so to really seal the deal he forced Bev to teach him how to bake a cake. Bill was out as some short story competition all day so he as the redhead had the apartment all to themselves to focus on what was possibly the messiest cake baking session in history. Richie splashed egg yolk and sprayed vanilla extract just about everywhere, and was covered almost entirely in a light dusting of flour by the time the cake was sitting before them, finally complete. It was a simple vanilla cake with light blue icing and obnoxiously bright green frosting letters spelling out the words: ‘Sorry for Being a Loud Asshole!’

Before Bev could give him any sort of pep talk about not being too annoying or respecting that Stan may just not like him, Richie rushed out the door and down the flight of stairs that separated his apartment from Stan’s. He rang the doorbell with the cake in his hands and waited patiently with his toes tapping in his shoes, this nervous buzz was rare for Richie, but he loved it. To Richie’s delight, it was Stan who opened the door, face immediately trying to mask how secretly happy he was about who was standing in front of him. 

“You made me a cake?” Stan asked with an eyebrow raised, crossing his arms across his front. Rich could see into the apartment slightly and was amazed at how different it was to his own, despite their identical floor plan. 

“I did, I wanted to apologise but I guess you never got my message.”   
  


“Oh, I got it. I wasn’t in the mood to answer it at the time.”

“Will this delicious cake prepared by yours truly get you in the mood to hear me out?” Richie held it up, wiggling his brows enticingly. A sigh comes from Stan as he takes it, inspecting the words on the top of it with a small smile that spread to his eyes. 

“No one has ever made me a cake before… it looks nice.”

“Tastes nice too - probably - but that’s beside the point. I want you to come tomorrow night, to the party. I guarantee that you’ll have a good time. I’ll even make you a deal, if you come and don’t like it I’ll shut it all down. The minute you leave my apartment tomorrow the party is over.”

“You really want me to go to your dumb party, huh?”

“Why, Miss Buchanan, of course I do, the very reason I been throwin em all these years is to pique your interest,” Richie says in his finest Southern accent. He wasn’t even sure if Gatsby was from the South but it sounded funny to say it in that voice so he did. A small chuckle came from Stan as he rolled his eyes.

“Fine. I’ll be there, but if it sucks I’m leaving and you’re turning the music off. Deal?”

“Deal.” Richie returned, putting his hand out to shake on it without thinking about the cake Stan was now holding. He swept his hand up and patted Stan lightly on the head. “Consider it shaken on.” He said before grinning wide and heading back up to his apartment to start preparing - he was gonna have to throw the best party yet.

Stan stayed in the doorway a little after Richie left, just contemplating the short interaction with this stranger turned neighbour turned, possible friend? He was yet to determine that last part. He supposed he had until Saturday night to figure all that out. In the meantime, he took the cake in and set it down, letting Mike taste test it before he tried any. It was quite possibly the best cake he’d ever had. 

Stan could hardly sleep that night, all he could think about was the idiot with glasses who had somehow wormed his way into Stan’s head. Seemed like he was moving in for good. He tossed and turned throughout the night that seemed almost too quiet - like Richie was being silent as a mouse on purpose to prove a point to Stan. He eventually drifted off without even realising and woke the next morning with a small ball of what felt like nerves in his stomach. He felt strangely excited. 

Stan asked Eddie and Ben to join him at the party - Eddie looked enthralled that Stan was going - but neither of them were free. Ben had a big project due the following week and Eddie had a date night planned with Mike. Stan made sure to get Eddie’s help with his outfit before he left though. Stan went to the kitchen in his chosen outfit, a polo and his khakis, but Eddie just shook his head from where he was sat in Mike’s lap.

“No way, you look like a 12-year-old, Stan. Unless you think this guy is into that…” When he saw Stan grimacing and shaking his head Eddie continued. “Ok, then change. Put on your blue jeans and get the green T-shirt from my closet.”

“First of all, I am not trying to impress him, therefore I don’t even care what he would be into. Second, Richie 100% is not into me anyways. And third, this is what I always wear!” Stan folded his arms over his front. “Mike?” Stan asked, wanting his opinion. Mike just shrugged. 

“You look nice Stan, but it’s not exactly a party outfit. Sorry buddy, I’m with Eddie on this one.” 

“But-” 

“No buts, unless you’re about to go put the blue jeans on. Then, definitely butts.” Eddie chuckled at his own little joke. Stan just rolled his eyes and headed back to his room to change. 

He put on the jeans and looked in the mirror, turning to see if there was any truth in Eddie’s words. The jeans were tight, for sure, and even Stan could admit that they did make his ass look pretty good. He sighed - how was Eddie always right? Heading to his roommate’s closet, Stan pulled out the green T-shirt Eddie had mentioned. It was dark green with a small designer logo on the right side of the chest, some fancy brand that Stan knew was a gift from his mother. He pulled it on and returned to the kitchen. 

“There we go, Stanny, that’s boyfriend material right there.” Eddie clapped his hands as Mike nodded his head in agreement. 

“For the last time, he doesn’t like me!”

  
“He made you a cake! That’s like a modern-day love letter!”

“No way!”

“Technically, the only person who’s ever made me a cake is Eddie… so, umm, yeah.” Mike chimed in, causing Stan to huff a little. Just then, the usual flyer flew under the door, interrupting them. It was a regular party flyer, except this one had been written on. 

Signed in the bottom left corner was a message addressed to Stan that caused his cheeks to flush hot red as he tried desperately hard to hide both his cheeks and the flyer. Eddie was one step ahead of him, plucking the flyer from his hands and dramatically gasping. 

“ _ Ohmygod _ ! Mike, it says: ‘See you later, Sexy Stan!’ with a heart! He’s soooo into you!” Eddie babbled, smiling almost proudly at Stan’s blush. He’s so happy with Mike and just wants Stan to be able to find that with someone - he knew how his best friend struggled with meeting new people, let alone starting to trust them. 

“He probably didn’t even write that! Or it’s a dumb joke, he always makes dumb jokes!”

“I dunno, Stan. After the cake yesterday I’d say he likes you.” Mike suggests reasonably, he always did make a good point. Eddie just nodded and stretched his hand out to help Mike stand up. 

“We have to go now Stan, please keep that outfit on and please have a good time. We’ll be back at 11 maybe? You better not be here!” Eddie affirmed, keeping hold of Mike’s hand and making his exit. 

From then on time flew by and before Stan knew it he was standing outside of Richie’s apartment with a small bottle of cheap wine in his hand. He was still in the outfit Eddie had chosen, turns out he kinda did want to make an impression on Richie although he would never admit it. The door to the apartment was littered with stickers, funky little niche ones that Stan imagined all belonged to Richie at some point. 

It took Stan a few seconds to work up the nerve to knock on the door. He could already hear the music blaring through the speakers, it somehow didn’t seem as loud as it did when he was trying to sleep. The lyrics to ‘Common People’ by Pulp could be heard faintly through the door, and even more faint was the sound of Richie singing along to every word. Stan grinned and took a breath and knocked twice over a Bugs Bunny sticker. 

“You came!” Richie hollered as he swung the door open, pulling Stan immediately into a hug. Stan got that smell again… the one he’d been thinking about all week long. Leaning into it perhaps a little too long, Stan cleared his throat before pulling back and holding up the wine.

“I didn’t know what you drank so I just bought what I had at home.” 

“No problem, come on in!” Richie stepped to the side to let Stan in. 

The apartment surprisingly had the exact same layout as Stan’s. He realised later that the similarities were to be expected since they both lived in the same building, directly below Richie. This apartment was different in many ways, clearly someone in the apartment had some taste - Stan could tell from the small armchair by the window matched almost perfectly to a rug and coffee table. There was a lot more empty space, Stan imagined there was more stuff but they moved it out of the main room for parties like this. There weren’t as many people as Stan imagined from the noise, probably thirty in total. They seemed pretty cool, just hanging out and talking amongst themselves. Perhaps Stan was a little guilty with his expectations of these people, anticipating to see a bunch of wild party animals. 

“You okay, buddy?” Richie asked, seeing the almost sorry look on Stan’s face.

Stan snapped out of his train of thought. “Yeah, I’m good, sorry. Just not what I was expecting?” Richie raised his brows in response, almost knowing exactly what Stan was thinking. 

“Not quite lively enough for the notorious party animal Stan the Man, huh?”

“No, no, it’s quite nice actually. I don’t like when parties are too crowded.” 

“Ohhh so you like it a bit quieter? Personal huh? Whadda ya say we pop this wine open and grab a couple of glasses?” Rich held up the bottle and tipped his head towards the kitchen area where a small group of people were standing, including Beverly. 

Stan nods and follows along, greeting Bev and the small group of people she had been chatting to. Richie pours out two glasses of Stan’s wine and hands one to Stan, taking a sip of his own. They were all very warm, and Stan realised almost instantly that Bev was the beautiful redhead that Ben always came home gushing about. He kept it to himself but couldn’t help think about how good they’d be together each time she opened her mouth to talk. Stan was pretty quiet in the conversation but listened to everything and contributed where he could. He kept finding his gaze back on Richie like he was some sort of magnet, pulling Stan in and keeping him stuck. The worst part was that Stan had no idea how to control himself, couldn’t stop the red tint in his cheeks from rising every time Richie caught his eyes. After the 7th time of catching Richie’s eye, Stan decided he needed a quick break from all of his thoughts. He finished his glass of wine and asked Bev where the bathroom was, following her directions and ending up in the bedroom directly above his. He probably didn’t even need to ask since he knew the layout perfectly. 

It just so happened that the room above his belonged to Richie. He closed the door gently behind him and trailed off to the bathroom to wash his hands, splashing some water over his face to hopefully cool his cheeks down. He didn’t know what was wrong with him, why was he feeling this way? His stomach was fluttering on the inside, and he could hardly stop the shallow dimples from poking into his cheeks every time Richie would make a corny joke -  _ Jeez, Stan, get it together.  _

Suddenly he heard the door click open and then shut again, Stan was no longer alone. He turned to exit the bathroom but was met by Richie, face to face. 

“Oh, uh, sorry. Just had to use the bathroom.” Stan said, rubbing the back of his neck a little awkwardly. 

“No worries, dear, mi casa es su casa or something. Like literally! I bet they look exactly the same!” Rich chuckled a little patting Stan on the shoulder. “You wanna stay in here for a sec? I think my jokes are getting a little too good for everyone out there.” 

Stan laughed along with Richie, feeling a pleasant buzz of a feeling he couldn’t quite explain bubble up in his chest. He hasn’t felt like this in… God, probably ever. New feelings weren’t always welcomed by Stan but this felt different. It felt good to be around Richie, safe and comfortable - things Stan only felt around a very small amount of people in his life. 

“Yeah, in here’s good.” Richie led Stan out of the bathroom and towards the bed, letting him sit and hopping down beside him. 

“I told you it’d be a good party. Are you enjoying it so far? I’m sure I’m living up to your Gatsby expectations of me. They should call me Gay Jatsby!”

“No it’s terrible, you and your friends are so mean, I might cry.” Stan said, voice thick with sarcasm. He was smiling way too much to be serious. “Your parties aren’t nearly as glamorous as Gatsby’s. Sorry to burst your bubble.”

“I guess it’s over then, time to go back down the rabbit hole, huh?” Rich played along, matching the sarcastic tones perfectly. 

“You know my room is directly below this, right?”

“You mean… we could build a fireman pole, or a SLIDE, down there so I could visit all the time?”

“Knowing you, I’d wake up at 4 a.m. or something with you bouncing on the end of my bed or something.”   
  


“I could make good use of a pole, Stanny boy, show you a good time.” Richie’s body language changed slightly as he spoke, leaning into Stan a little more and lowering his voice. Someone who was any better than Stan at reading body language would have guessed that Richie perhaps wanted to kiss him, but of course, Stan wouldn’t see that until it was a lot more blatant.

Stan kept his voice at the same low level as Richie, turning his body to face Rich a little more. “Pole dancer, huh? I bet that would be entertaining-” Stan blushed as he realised what he’d just said. “In a funny way. Entertaining because I’d be laughing. At you specifically.” He covered up quickly, blushing even more now.

“Yeah, sure Stan.” Richie’s eyes flicked to Stan’s lips, trying to make his intentions a little more obvious. Stan heard the beginning of ‘Do I Wanna Know’ by Arctic Monkeys start to play outside. “I’ve been thinking about you all week. It sounds dumb and corny but I seriously can’t get you out of my head.” 

Stan wasn’t used to this sort of outright honesty, and his eyes were widened a little in reaction. He stumbled over a couple of words before giving up completely on talking. He rushed his lips in the direction of Richie’s, pressing them a little harshly against each other. The burning in his cheeks was spread instantly to his entire body. He was tingling all over as he felt Richie get over the initial shock and start to lightly kiss back, moving his lips over Stan’s. 

“Wow…” The taller man whispered as he pulled back, hands finding their way to rest halfway up Stan’s thighs. The slight look of awe in Richie’s eyes made Stan feel that feeling again, the nice one. He decided that he wanted to hang on to that feeling for as long as he could, so when Richie leaned in again he eagerly accepted the kiss - even parting his lips in attempt to deepen it. 

Twenty minutes later, Stan sat in Richie’s lap, legs straddling his waist, as they continued to make out. Stan’s hair was slightly dishevelled from the fingers Richie had run through it, but he looked messy in the best possible way. 

“Maybe we should leave it there for tonight, hm? It’s getting pretty late, babe.” Rich offered, despite his desire to keep Stan here all night he knew that he didn’t want to rush this and have it as just a one night stand. He wanted so much more than that. 

Stan grins a little at the pet name, nodding as Richie comfortingly stroked his lower back. “Yeah, yeah okay. Um… can I see you tomorrow?”

“I was just about to ask you the same question.” Richie smiled and pressed his lips to Stan’s once more before he helped him off of his lap. 

Walking Stan to the door, Richie tried to not smile like a maniac when Bev locked her eyes on him, he was doing backflips in his head, trying to not scream and shout about the fact he’d just made out with the guy he’d been crushing on for weeks. Richie decided to walk Stan down to his apartment, turning to face him as they reached the door. 

“I’m glad you came tonight, Stan. Really. I’m glad for a lot of things tonight actually.” He gave a cheezy grin, giving Stan’s hand a squeeze.

“You’re such a dork. But… so am I. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

“You bet your sweet ass!” 

Stan couldn’t help his smile, shaking his head - he owed Eddie a BIG thank you. “Bye, Rich.”

“Bye, Stan the Man.” Richie kissed his cheek before Stan disappeared inside of the apartment.

The next morning was their first of their many Sunday after the party brunch dates. Weekends easily became their thing. They would get Richie’s apartment ready for the party, get dressed, have a good time (probably fool around a little), fall asleep cuddling in whoever’s bed was cleanest, wakeup and spend the day together, mostly studying for whichever test they had that week. Life just seemed to go easier when they had each other. Their roommates all became fast friends and, after some heavy influence from Eddie, Ben  _ finally _ asked Bev out. Richie always said that it was all thanks to himself and Stan that Ben got with Bev, but everyone knew who really was responsible. 

Suddenly the asshole who lived upstairs was the thing that made Stan’s apartment what he’d always wanted it to be: perfect. 

  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading!!! my tumblr is @starboystan. hope you enjoyed! xoxox


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